An Object's Need
by KathrynElaineDarling
Summary: Objects have desires too.


**A/N** : This story was written for the Semi-Finals of the Fourth Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as Beater 2 for The Wimbourne Wasps.

 **Name of round** : A Different Point Of View

 _These objects are capable of having their very own mind, will, consciousness, thoughts, feelings, sensations, memories, and possessing their host's mind and body. And you've guessed it - you will be writing from the point of view of your given object in your stories. What does the Sorting Hat think about at night? Who does the Marauder's Map secretly spy on? The questions are endless._

 _There are no restrictions in terms of first or third person perspectives, but you must make sure your objects are portrayed as sentient in your entry. Good luck!_

Since I'm on the Wimbourne Wasps, our team prompt was **Peter Pettigrew's Silver Hand**.

 **Prompts used** :

3\. (word) matchstick

6\. (color) rose gold

 **Word Count** : (given by Google Docs) 992

 **An Object's Need**

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._

Objects have a purpose.

Sometimes they are created to be around for a long period of time and other times they are a onetime use. This was a case where the object believed that it should be used once. Unfortunately for it, the situation turned out to last longer than expected.

The cool steel of its tips tapped impatiently against the cool wood as it waited for the treacherous traitor to cave into his usual ways. Although, Pettigrew was a little more impatient than usual this time and he wasn't quite sure why. It hoped that he was going to finally act against his Lord. It's waited for days for an opportunity to wrap its steely traps around that scoundrel's neck but it hasn't been given the chance. It's just waited.

It had been crafted by Lord Voldemort himself and was set to be part of Peter Pettigrew's body until he committed some form of disloyalty. The hand had not expected to have lasted this long but it had no choice.

"Peter?" echoed a small voice from the door.

The hand was thoroughly irritated by the intrusion and stopped tapping immediately. In fact, it balled its limbs into a fist which caused the need for it to be cradled. It hated to be cradled by Peter Pettigrew. It was as if he thought that it was going to keep it, the hand, from fulfilling its duties that it was created for.

A middle aged woman poked her head in through the gap of the door and it became less irritated as it got a good look at her. It had seen and met this woman before. In fact, it couldn't get the feeling of her slight wrinkles and soft skin out of its mind. It could remember the soft curls of her hair and her incessant need to cradle the steel cage. It minded when Peter would cradle it but the moment that she caresses it makes him less angry.

"What are you doing here, Margaret?" Peter questioned.

The hand loosened up as she walked through the door and it couldn't wait for the moment where it would get to touch her again. It could remember the last time she had come for a visit. Her beauty often kept the hand from paying any attention to Pettigrew. It wondered what a fine woman like that would be doing cavorting with a swine like this. Although, he had noticed that she wasn't wearing the rose gold ring that Peter gave her during their last visit.

"I needed to see you straightaway," she whispered, peering around the room as if she were being watched.

It needed to touch her immediately for it feared that it wouldn't be able to concentrate on much more than its own mind. It took her hand and marveled at how soft her hands were but the missing ring bothered it too much to really focus on her skin.

"What has happened to your ring?" Peter questioned.

It was wondering when he was going to notice.

"That's actually what I came here to discuss," Margaret said sadly.

She motioned for them to sit down and pointed to the pack of matches that sat near the pair of candles. Even though the room wasn't entirely dark, it loved the way she looked in the candlelight. The fire light would give her skin a remarkable glow and it was happy to oblige by getting the matches. Although, it hated when Peter offered to light the candles himself. He always forced it to pick up the matchstick even though he knew that it struggled grasping onto the small fire starter. The candles were finally lit and that was when she took his silver hand in hers and stared at it. She had never looked at it kindly but it never noticed because it was too infatuated with her.

"I've sold the ring," she whispered.

"Why would you do that?" he wondered.

She let it go and stood up from the chair that she had just ushered them to. She began to pace and it had never seen her pace before.

"I needed the money. I'm moving away," she said quickly.

"Where to?"

"I'm not sure,"

It wasn't enjoying the company of her any longer. It was getting irritated with her because it could sense the betrayal and dishonesty of her demeanor. It knew she was lying.

"That's a lie!" Peter shouted, slamming his silver hand on the table.

"I'm moving away from you and that's all you need to know!"

"After everything I've done for you, how could you say that?" Peter asked.

It watched as she chewed on her bottom lip. Her features were becoming less and less prominent in beauty as the hate for her started to grow. It couldn't believe that she was willing to let everything go even though he had done everything for her. It felt a strange urge to strangle her but resisted.

"I strongly believe that you misinterpreted my intentions, Peter," she tried to reason.

"Get out," he said quietly at first.

It started to contract its limbs once again into a fist and they turned away from the once beautiful figure standing near the door.

"Peter, please-"

"Get out!" he shouted, slamming the hand against the wall.

It needed to shake the pain later but the detachment from her skin seemed to be much more of a punishment than the cobblestone wall. The soft click of the door allowed both it and him to relax a bit. Peter moved back to the table and let his silver hand sit on top of the table yet again in the position that it had enjoyed the most.

It had already forgotten about the woman and went back to tapping on the table impatiently while it waited for Peter to betray the one that had created it.

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._


End file.
